The Protector
by AshaPhoenix
Summary: AU. Ginny is the subject of an ancient prophecy, and at 11 she disappears without a trace. 7 years later, Harry Potter has won the war against Voldemort, but the real battle has just begun. Luckily, he will be aided by a mysterious stranger.
1. Prologue: The Chamber of Secrets

_Welcome to what is shaping up to be a lengthy fanfic! This story is AU from the second book, but vaguely follows the same structure as the original story until the final battle and Harry, Ron and Hermione's post-Hogwarts choices. All will be revealed._

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><p>"This time, a student has been taken to the Chamber of Secrets. It is Ginny Weasley."<p>

_No_, Harry thought, not daring to look at Ron. _Not Ginny_. Ginny was Ron's little sister, a member of the Weasley family, a family he loved more than anything. She could not die. Harry wouldn't let it happen.

That was the night that Ron and Harry decided to enter the Chamber of Secret themselves. Dumbledore was gone, Hagrid was gone, Hermione was Petrified. It was only them. And Harry told himself that it was because of Ron that he felt petrified himself, and because of his love for the Weasley family that he felt such an indescribable sense of terror at the thought of getting there too late to save her.

In the end, it was Harry himself who had to enter the Chamber, separated from Ron and Lockhart by the wall of stone. He was terrified of what he might find there. _Please, please don't let me be too late_, the 12-year-old pleaded desperately with whatever or whomever might be listening.

"Enter," Harry hissed at the stone snake. The round door of the Chamber swung open.

The cavernous hall was dark, with ominous shadows in the corners making the hairs on the back of Harry's head stand on end and a shiver run down his spine. The Basilisk could be anywhere. He had to find Ginny.

At the very center of the Hall, Harry saw a large, grotesquely carved stone head. _Salazar Slytherin_, he thought and shuddered.

Looking away, Harry scanned the Hall, looking for a glimmer of that tell-tale fiery red that reminded him of Weasleys and Gryffindor and everything else he liked. Surely even in the dim light he would be able to...

Harry gasped. As he moved, what he thought had been a fallen pillar suddenly glinted in the reflection of a shallow pool at the base of the statue, and he saw: it was the Basilisk.

He stopped dead in his tracks, not daring to move. Had it heard him? Should he close his eyes? It still wasn't moving though. Maybe he could get closer...

Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry began to move. Maybe it was sleeping. He didn't really have a good idea of how to battle a Basilisk, and even though his common sense was telling him to _Run, run you noble idiot_!, he found that he couldn't. Ginny needed him. _Ginny needs me_. That thought was enough to make him speed up, as Harry's courage finally caught up with his fear.

When he was almost within reach of the snake, Harry found himself stopping again. Was it a trick? It was like the shedded skin which he and Ron had found in the corridor – big, cold, unmoving. Surely the Basilisk should have sensed him by now. That's when Harry noticed: beneath the Basilisk's head, which had previously been hidden by its enormous body, was a pool of blood.

Curious, Harry moved around to look at it closer – and let out a sharp yell of surprise, because he found himself staring into the Basilisk's yellow eyes! Quickly shutting his own eyes, Harry fell to the ground – only to realise with a shock that he wasn't dead. Glimpsing through his fingers, Harry chanced another look, and sure enough. The Basilisk was staring straight ahead, yet there was an odd blue-ish film covering the yellow center, and the eyes stayed completely unmoving.

_It's dead_, Harry realised. Confused, Harry glanced around the Hall. Had Dumbledore...?

"Professor?" Harry called out hesitantly, but there was no response except for a faint echo. Harry ignored the shivers he felt, and looked back to the Basilisk. The pool of blood had come from its open mouth, where a dark gap showed a missing tooth.

_What the...? _Harry did not understand what he was seeing. The Basilisk was dead, someone had taken its tooth, but...

"Ginny?" Harry called, louder than before. "Ginny, where are you?"

He contemplated the possibility that Ron's timid little sister, the one who had put her elbow in the butter dish and sent him a singing Valentine, had killed the Basilisk and ripped out its tooth. No, that didn't sound right. Of course, that only left Slytherin's heir. But there was no sign of him anywhere, either, and why would he kill his own snake?

That's when Harry saw something else. His eyes had followed the slowly growing pool of blood drifting out from the Basilisk's mouth, when he noticed a small object. Carefully moving towards it, the darkness still didn't allow him to make it out, yet... was it...?

As he got closer, Harry frowned, because this situation just made less and less sense. He was staring down at the diary of Tom Riddle. _How did that get here_? Harry wondered. He bent to pick it up, only to see that its front seemed to have been pierced by a sharp object. And what was gathered around the book was not blood like he'd thought, it seemed to be... ink. Harry opened up the book only to see the blackened pages crumble before his eyes.

Harry once again rose to his feet. He looked around, completely at a loss. A dead Basilisk, a ruined diary... and no Ginny Weasley.

That's when Harry Potter realised that he had failed. He was too late. Slytherin's heir had clearly done what he needed to do in the Chamber of Secrets, and had vanished. And Ginny was gone.


	2. Seven Years Later

Harry Potter smiled as he finished reading Hermione's letter. His friend was clearly enjoying herself perusing the Beauxbatons library, and she felt the need to entertain him with pages and pages of what he was sure she thought was fascinating information about the correct way to brew a Forgetfulness Potion – why you would even want to brew a potion that would make you more forgetful was beyond him – interspersed with her observations about the Beauxbatons students and how their castle and classes and grounds and kitchens ('Can you believe it, Harry, Beauxbatons employs actual chefs to prepare their food! Hogwarts could learn a thing or two about the alternatives to resorting to slave labour, don't you agree?') differed or were similar to Hogwarts.

Harry would never admit it to Ron, but he actually enjoyed these novel-length letters from their friend. It made her absence a little easier to bear. And if he wasn't sorely mistaken, Harry was sure that Ron probably enjoyed the letters even more, even though Harry was sure that he would much prefer the bushy-haired, know-it-all girl in person. Harry, Ron and Hermione had always been close, but ever since they had worked together to defeat Lord Voldemort during their final year at Hogwarts, they had become inseparable, and Ron and Hermione had grown especially close.

But after graduation, Harry and Ron had gone straight into Auror training while Hermione had felt the need to put a bit of distance between herself and the British Wizarding World, which was struggling to put itself back together after the devastating Second War. Harry and Ron thought it was probably because of her close ties to the Muggle world; Ron had grown up knowing nothing else than this, while Harry had pretty much severed all ties with the Muggles after he left Number 4, Privet Drive for the last time. But Hermione still had her family, she still had a small nagging insecurity about where she was supposed to fit in, and unlike Harry and Ron, Hermione was still uncertain about her career. She needed time to figure it all out.

Of course, whatever career she chose to pursue, Harry had no doubt that she would be brilliant. Still, a part of him wished that she would have decided to start Auror training with him and Ron. She was clever, yes, but during the final battle Hermione had shown an impressive amount of magical power as well, when she had destroyed the diadem Horcrux right in front of Lord Voldemort's eyes. Plus, life wasn't the same without her.

Still, Harry had enough on his plate that prevented him spending a lot of time missing his friend. Between Auror training, his Hogwarts friends and his surrogate family, Harry didn't have much time to himself. In fact, the weekend looming was completely booked up: on Saturday, Harry and Ron were going to Remus and Tonks' house to babysit little Teddy while his parents had a much-needed night to themselves, and Sunday Harry was supposed to go to dinner at the Weasleys'.

Harry tried very, very hard to look forward to the latter event.

He loved the Weasleys. Ron was his best friend in the whole world, and Molly and Arthur were the closest things Harry had to parents, and Ron's brothers felt like they were his own. He knew they didn't blame him. And yet... even after all these years, every time he went to the Burrow, he saw her. He saw her at the table, her face as red as her hair when he smiled at her. He saw her in the garden, in a moment of unguarded joy as she giggled at a garden gnome. He saw her name on the family clock, or rather, the absence of her name. Because the finger that previously showed the location of Ginny Weasley, the youngest Weasley child, was gone. Ginny Weasley was dead, and it was his fault. Because he had been too late to save her.

Even after Cedric, after Sirius, after Dumbledore... after the countless witches and wizards who had died to protect Harry in the final battle, Harry still remembered Ginny Weasley, and it was her death which still caused him to wake up sweating in the night. Sometimes he dreamed of her mutilated body, devoured by the Basilisk. Sometimes he dreamed of the killing curse engulfing her in green, turning her brilliant fiery hair a grey-green, sickly colour as she hit the ground heavily. And sometimes, Harry dreamed that he saved her. That he hadn't been too late, that he had found her in the Chamber like he had hoped, and that she had opened her big, round brown eyes and her face had lit up with love and gratitude before he turned around and performed some ridiculous act of bravery like cutting off the Basilisk's head with a sword.

Those dreams were the worst. Because when he woke, he realised that they had just been dreams. And Harry had dreaded meeting Molly's eyes even more every time, dreaded seeing Arthur's tired, hunched shoulders and hearing the twins' subdued attempts at jokes. The Weasley family had never been the same since they lost their youngest, and Harry only thanked Merlin that they had not suffered any further losses in the war; they had lost enough.

Suddenly very tired, Harry put Hermione's letter aside and got up from his armchair, stretching. He glanced at the clock: 23:35. Maybe it was time to turn in; he needed all his strength for tomorrow. Harry loved his little godson, but the two-year-old was a handful. Harry wondered when Ron would be home; it was great sharing a flat with his best friend, but sometimes, Ron would have had a little too much fun when he staggered in at 2 am, and Harry was always reluctant to cast silencing spells around himself in case of an emergency.

Before going to get ready for bed, Harry looked out the window. Since Voldemort's death and the severance of his connection to Harry, the Boy Who Lived had felt a lot less haunted and hunted – yet every once in a while, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. There were still Death Eaters out there looking for revenge, and he knew that he was still not completely safe, but he kept reminding himself that the Aurors and the Order had gone to great lengths to secure his flat. No one could find him here.

So when he turned away from the window, Harry still had no idea of the brown eyes watching him, measuring his every movement, memorizing every habit. Waiting.


	3. An Unexpected Presence

"Good morning, Ron!" Harry called brightly, throwing open his roommate's door and allowing the bright sunlight to hit the bed where Ronald Weasley was currently sprawled, dead to the world.

"Uuuuggghhh," was the redhead's only response, as Ron pulled the covers over his eyes.

Harry chuckled. "Sorry mate, it's time to get up."

"Whatimisst?"

Smiling brightly, maybe enjoying his friend's miserable state a little too much, Harry flicked his wand and Ron's curtains opened. Ron groaned again.

"Seriously," Harry said, ignoring Ron's question, "When did you get back last night?"

"Dunno," Ron mumbled. "Auugh. Bright."

"Well, there's breakfast, if-"

Ron rolled onto his back and made a great effort to open his eyes. "I'm up," he promised, squinting.

Harry smiled. So predictable.

After several fried eggs and pieces of bacon, and a bit of Ogg's Fire-Fighter Potion, Ron was close to resembling a human being. Harry and Ron got ready to Apparate to the Tonks-Lupin household, and Harry made sure all the anti-Apparition and protection spells were in place. His Auror training had paid off, he thought proudly; the spells would have been hard to break for even Dumbledore himself.

Yet five minutes after Harry and Ron had left, a small _pop_ penetrated the silence of the empty flat. The hooded figure swept through the kitchen, ready to begin the search.

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><p>Ron and Harry ended up having a great time with little Teddy. The boy was a firecracker, already displaying signs of metamorphmaging. Ron spent half an hour teaching the boy to turn his hair pink while Harry made lunch, and they had had a good laugh imagining the look on Remus' face when he got home.<p>

Having put up the wards before they left, Harry and Ron had to Apparate to an alley just outside their building. Ron decided to run a few errands before going up to the flat, so Harry made the way up the stairs on his own, grateful that he would soon be able to kick back and relax for a few hours. Maybe he could even get that letter to Hermione done.

When he turned the key in the lock, Harry noticed immediately that something was wrong. He drew his wand tensely as he entered. Had he done the enchantments wrong after all? His flat was protected by a secret keeper, but had someone found it anyway? How?

He entered the dark flat carefully, murmuring, "Lumos Privatia" to give himself some light that no one else could benefit from.

It was dead silent. He checked the kitchen, the bathroom, his room, Ron's room... there was no one. Nothing looked out of place.

Maybe he was getting paranoid, he thought, after "Homenum Revelio" turned up nothing. There was clearly no one here.

Still, something felt... _different_. He couldn't place it. He didn't remember ever feeling a presence like this before... but of course, it was only after starting Auror training that Harry had really begun to notice and identify the types of magical traces left in the air.

He made his way to the makeshift fireplace which Ron and Harry had had set up to more easily be able to communicate with other wizard households. "Kingsley Shacklebolt!" Harry called, throwing a pinch of Floo powder on the flames he simultaneously conjured with an silent 'Incendio'.

After a beat, Kingsley's face appeared in the fire. "Harry?" Kingsley called. Ever since the final battle, Harry's mentor seemed permanently prepared for an attack; he was always alert.

"Kingsley, I have just experienced something... unexpected in my flat," Harry said. "Are you able to-"

He didn't even get to finish the sentence before Kingsley's head disappeared from the flames. Harry hurriedly got out of the way, and not a moment too soon; the fireplace erupted with a flash of green, and the next moment Kingsley was standing in Harry's living room, dusting himself off.

Harry rose to his feet, watching Kingsley closely for any sign that he'd felt the disturbance. But Kingsley only looked at Harry expectantly. "Well?" the Auror asked. "What did you experience, Harry?"

Harry blinked. "I..." he could still feel the traces of whomever – or whatever – had disturbed his wards, yet they were fading fast. "I felt – feel – this presence."

He watched Kingsley as he closed his eyes, and Harry knew he was going over all the revealing spells that Harry himself had tried. After a moment, Kingsley opened his eyes. "I feel nothing," he told Harry.

"But..." Harry couldn't understand it. The traces were almost gone now, but Harry could still feel the strange, foreign tendrils poking at the edge of his awareness, telling him that something wasn't right.

Kingsley sighed, and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Look, Harry, you have been pushed very hard at training-"

Harry recoiled, already feeling that familiar anger rise up inside him. "I am _not_ making this up!" Harry insisted.

"I don't doubt you," Kingsley continued, infuriatingly calm, "But this is not an unusual side-effect of opening up your senses like we have been teaching you, Harry. Besides," he gestured around the flat, "Remus and I have personally ensured that your home is as safe and secure as Hogwarts. No one could get in without us knowing about it, and I have felt no disturbance. You are perfectly safe here."

Harry shook his head. He knew he wouldn't get through to Kingsley this way. Besides, maybe he was right. Harry _had _been feeling exhausted lately.

"Thanks for coming, Kingsley," Harry said sheepishly.

Kingsley already had one foot in the green flames again. "Do not hesitate to call on me if ever you feel a disturbance again, Harry. Your safety is our first priority. _11, Treebirk Lane_!" And with that, he was gone.

Harry frowned at the spot where Kingsley had just been. It always made him uncomfortable whenever a member of the Order forgot that Harry was no longer the top priority; his battle was fought and won, Voldemort was dead. Harry was no longer the subject of a prophecy, he was just like everyone else. He didn't want special protection.

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><p>Later, when Ron came home, Harry couldn't help but look up sharply to gauge whether his friend felt anything like what Harry had felt, but unsurprisingly, Ron just smiled and started unloading his groceries.<p>

"Catch!" Ron threw him a beer, and Harry caught it. _Seeker reflexes are still good for something_. The thought brought him back to Hogwarts, and Harry felt oddly nostalgic. He thought he better finish that letter to Hermione, and tried to put the strange sensations out of his mind. _I am safe here_.


	4. The Unspeakable

_Somewhere in Scotland..._

"You failed. He knows you were there."

"I took every precaution. This should not have happened."

"You must have done something wrong. _Think_. You cannot allow this to happen again!"

"I swear it. And... it was only Harry Potter who felt my presence. I don't know what he did, but it had nothing to do with my spellwork."

"Hmmm. The council shall have to consider this. Did you complete your mission?"

"I did. Harry Potter may have felt my presence, but he will never know the steps I have taken to ensure his protection. His own spells were... inadequate. All of the Aurors' spells have been."

"As we knew they would be. You may take your leave."

"Thank you, sir."

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><p>Harry took a deep breath as he considered the tall, lopsided building before him. He could do this.<p>

"Come on, mate," Ron said enthusiastically, thumping Harry on the back on his way past, the promise of his mother's cooking propelling him forwards at an inhuman speed.

Harry followed close behind, forcing a smile on his face. This would be great. _They don't blame you._

The front door of the Burrow burst open before Ron had reached it, and Harry watched in amusement as Molly Weasley shrieked and enveloped her son in a massive hug.

"Mum, every time?" Harry heard Ron mumble, and couldn't help laughing.

Molly peeked around her tall son at the sound, and her eyes lit up as she saw Harry.

"Harry!" she enthused, and Harry waved awkwardly in greeting.

"Hey Mrs. Weasley," he said, giving her a guarded smile as he approached, but the older woman just threw her arms around him like she had done with her son a moment ago. Harry hesitantly hugged her back, feeling guilty about enjoying the affection. _I failed you_.

After a long moment, Mrs. Weasley pulled away, touching his cheek affectionately. "I told you to call me Molly, dear." She gave him a final smile before turning around and heading back inside the house, muttering about leaving something on the cooker.

Ron rolled his eyes, but smiled, and Harry couldn't help sharing a little of his joy. They were home. He tried to push away his feelings of guilt as he entered the Burrow, wanting nothing more than to enjoy himself.

Harry intentionally avoided looking at the Weasley family clock as he walked down the hallway, moving towards the kitchen. As he entered, he found Molly at her stove, while Mr. Weasley sat by the table, his crutches leaning against the chair.

Mr. Weasley's face lit up when he saw them. "Harry, Ron!" he exclaimed as they each bent to hug him. "I would get up, but..." he gestured at the crutches.

"No need dad," Ron said. "How have you been?"

Ever since Mr. Weasley's accident, all of his children had been acting differently around him. Harry knew that Mr. Weasley knew it, and that it bothered him, but what could he do? He had come so close to dying in the final battle, and the fact that he only ended up with a few scars was nothing short of a miracle. By all accounts, Arthur Weasley _should_ have been killed by that spell. Everyone was aware of how close they had come to losing him.

Even the Ministry, which had been going through some big reconfigurations over the past year, had been very accommodating to Arthur, making sure he was able to Floo straight from home to his office, providing him with a special, yearly bonus for his valiant efforts in the war and increasing his clearance. Arthur was now more heavily involved with the wizard-Muggle relations department, and loving it.

It wasn't long before Fred and George Apparated to the yard, and Molly hurried outside to greet her sons. Fred, too, had come close to dying in the battle – really, Harry thought, it was as if someone had been holding a hand over the Weasley family. Or had been for the past few years, anyway.

Fred and George came into the kitchen, identical grins on their faces. The twins were always the light of the party, yet for the longest time, Harry had felt like they were holding back. He didn't doubt that they played cruel jokes on each other, but they never bothered any of their family members. Ron always told Harry how much of a relief it was, but Harry knew that a small part of Ron wished that the twins would be like they had been when they were younger; careless and uninhibited. But war and loss had changed them all.

"Well, boys, shall we get seated?" Mrs. Weasley finally exclaimed loudly, to make herself heard over all the greetings and catching up that was happening. "Sadly Bill and Charlie won't be able to-"

She was cut off by another 'pop' from the yard, and after a moment, a deep voice called, "Mum? Dad?"

"Charlie!" Molly exclaimed and ran out of the door to greet her son.

"What a pleasant surprise," Arthur said, smiling.

Harry grinned as well. Charlie had made it! He was tempted to run outside with Molly, but he restrained himself – no need to overdo it. Instead, he waited until Charlie came inside, and shook his hand like he would have any of the other Weasley brothers'.

"Charlie, mate, good to see you," Harry said, and Charlie returned his grin. Of course, Harry and Charlie could never reveal to the rest of the Weasleys how often they actually saw each other, as Charlie's position within the Ministry was completely dependent on his anonymity. Still, it was always good to spend time with his friend outside of work. Harry and Charlie had grown very close over the past year.

_What's up, mate_? Harry felt the small telepathic nudge and with a final secretive grin at Charlie, turned back to his conversation with George, yet opened the connection.

"So how is it going with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?" Harry asked, while mentally sending his Unspeakable an image of George's head coming out of a jack-in-the-box. He heard and felt Charlie's snort across the room and Ron's "Hey! What's so funny?" and smiled, pretending to pay attention to George's story.

The rest of dinner passed in the same fashion, with Charlie and Harry occasionally sharing small private jokes across their connection while enjoying themselves with the rest of the Weasleys. Really, Kingsley would berate them for abusing the link this way, but Harry and Charlie saw it as training. _Constant vigilance_, Harry thought, and felt a nudge of sympathy. _Oops, didn't mean for that to go your way_, he transferred. They did need training, didn't they? _Yep, we do_, Harry heard Charlie say in his head. Sometimes, once the connection was open, it was hard to not let it take over completely without shutting it off completely.

Harry was very happy about having Charlie as his Unspeakable. Not many Aurors had the chance to form a bond with an Unspeakable the way that Harry had; in fact, only a handful of people even knew about the possibility. Harry himself had been approached after only six months at the Auror Academy – another perk of being the Chosen One, no doubt, as most Aurors were only considered for the honour after years of service, if ever. But Kingsley and the Head of the Unspeakables (no one except Kingsley knew the man's identity, of course; everything about the Unspeakables and the Department of Mystery was on a need-to-know basis) had found there to be a strong compatibility between Harry and the recently recruited Charlie Weasley, who had caught the Ministry's interest after his valiant displays of bravery and magical skill in the final battle.

Unspeakable Aurors were few and far between. They were trained not only in traditional combat techniques, but also to assist as a counterpoint to their assigned Auror. The two wizards' strengths and weaknesses would balance each other, and the Unspeakable would exist as their shadow, with the ability to fuse their magical energy and strength and work as an extension of each other. Harry remembered feeling a little put off that he himself had not been approached to be an Unspeakable, but Kingsley had explained that Harry's magic was primarily offensive, and therefore, he was better suited to be a regular Auror. Besides, Unspeakables were trained with the intention of fusing with another witch or wizard, and Kingsley had not expected that Harry would be particularly interested in that kind of training. Kingsley had been right.

Still, being assigned an Unspeakable was a massive honour, and Harry and Charlie had enjoyed training together over the last few months. The only problem was that they were not allowed to speak about it to anyone; not even Charlie's family could know, and Harry felt bad about keeping it from Ron. But aside from the department heads, no one could know of any Auror's bond with an Unspeakable. Harry sometimes found himself looking around at his fellow Aurors-in-training and at his teachers, wondering who – if any – had Unspeakables of their own.

The arrival of Charlie had completely thrown Harry off, and as he and Ron were getting ready to Apparate back to London, he realised that he had forgotten to feel guilty about Ginny. He took one last glance at the kitchen table before heading out the door, but all he felt was a small pang of sadness for the girl's absence. Maybe it was because of his bond with Charlie, and because he was doing Auror training with Ron, but Harry left the Burrow that evening feeling closer than ever to the Weasley family, and feeling like maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to make his peace with the past.

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><p>Finally back in her private chambers, the cloaked figure removed her hood, letting her long, fiery red hair tumble freely down her back. They had implored her to cut it off, of course, but it was the one point on which she had never relented.<p>

Ginny Weasley lay down on her cot in the small room and closed her eyes, shivering as she felt the surge of magical energy roll through her. Her powers were growing day by day, and she knew her body was preparing for what was to come.

_Soon, _she thought.


	5. Training

_**A/N:** I am getting so much great feedback on this story, thank you everyone for your investment! I know the slow updates is annoying at this early stage when things are (slowly) being established, but once all that's done the story will begin moving at a more satisfying pace. This time, we'll delve more into the everyday lives of both our heroes__, but the meeting is approaching, as are the answers to what happened to Ginny and what the big prophecy is all about. Thanks for your continued support of the story._

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><p>Harry was surprised when Hedwig returned only a few hours after delivering his letter to Hermione. "Did you catch a jet plane surge on the way back from France?" he laughed as he pushed his bowl of cereal towards her.<p>

Hedwig hooted indignantly before diving into the bowl.

Harry shook his head, smiling, as he rose from the table. He had decided to get up early to get a few chores done before Auror training since they had a late start on Mondays, but it was coming up to 9am and he knew that he and Ron had to get a move on if they didn't want to be late. And for Amon Aurelius's Animal Transformation class, you never wanted to be late.

"Ron, hurry up!" Harry called, and he heard the water turn off in the shower.

"Coming!" Ron called back. This was followed by a _thump!_ and an "Oww... just give me a minute."

Harry sighed. Some days he really missed Hermione.

In the end, Harry and Ron made it just in time. Harry pulled out his copy of _Transformation and the Transformed_, and he heard Ron groan beside him. Without looking, Harry pushed his book across the table for them to share. _Nothing has changed,_ Harry thought.

Still, Ron was excelling in most of his classes at an impressive rate. It seemed that he had finally found a place to put his talents to good use; Ron had never been stupid, but school hadn't really caught his interest. He only just scraped the grades needed for acceptance into the Auror programme, and Harry suspected that the Academy probably weighed his effort in the battle against Voldemort more heavily than his academic performance. As well they should, in Harry's opinion.

In Animal Transformation, Harry, Ron and their fellow Aurors-in-training were exploring the process of becoming an Animagus. While the Academy strongly encouraged that Aurors underwent the process, it was not required, but Ron and Harry had pretty much decided that they would be pursuing the programme before they even began. Harry's dad and mum had both been Animagi, as had Sirius. And Ron just wanted to be able to do something that none of his brothers could; Harry had listened many times as Ron, in some degree of intoxication, had fantasized about appearing as an otter or a weasel or something in the kitchen and scaring his mother half to death as he transformed right before her eyes. At first, Harry had tried to warn Ron that his mother might cast some kind of horrible expulsion curse on him before he got that far, but after a while he'd just let Ron have his dreams. Hopefully, he would have wisened up before they got that far.

For now, they were focusing on the theory behind the transformations, as well as beginning to form the animal they would eventually be able to transform into. That was one thing Harry both dreaded and looked forward to – unlike with a Patronus, which formed instantly out of the caster's need for a protective entity, one's Animagus form was a work-in-progress from the minute a witch or wizard began the process of learning to transform.

Harry and Ron, of course, both worried that they would turn into something horribly embarrassing like a dung beetle or a blast-ended skrewt, but they had also been weighing up what types of animals would be the most useful for disguise or combat.

At first, Ron had wanted to become some kind of wildcat creature like a lion or a leopard, until Harry had reminded him that they were not native to Britain and would therefore look mighty conspicuous. Ron had then countered that Harry's likely form, a stag (after all, both his parents had transformed into deer), would not exactly be inconspicuous if he had to transform in a populated area, and it was not the best fighter, either.

The boys had then debated whether maybe the best animal would actually be a more domestic animal, like Sirius' dog form or a cat. "Or a rat," Ron had said with contempt. Harry really hoped that neither of them would turn into a rat.

Professor Aurelius had explained that the animal form you ended up with would be determined both by your personality and by your deepest physical need or desire. Harry thought back to the Animagi he had met in his life, and thought he understood how it worked: his father had been proud, but he had also yearned for simplicity and honour. His mother, knowing his father's form, had wanted to be with him so completely, that her form had come to mirror his. Peter Pettigrew, deep down, had always been a rat, and had always known that one day he would need to be able to scurry out of a sticky situation. And Sirius had wanted freedom from his family's judgement, and as a dog, he could behave in the craziest ways, and no one would ever judgehis behaviour.

Still, Harry wasn't sure what his own deepest need would be. He supposed he would know when he finally reached the final stages of transformation.

After class, the rest of the day was dedicated to practical battle training. This part always reminded Harry a bit of the secret Defence Association meetings during his 5th year at school; except here, Harry himself wasn't the teacher, and like everyone else, he was being pushed to the limit in every every class. He loved it.

This time, he was paired up with Amanda Everpool, a bright, blonde girl a few years his senior. Amanda was a half-blood, and had been pulled out of Hogwarts during her 6th year when Voldemort returned during the Triwizard Cup tournament, and she and her family had been in hiding abroad until the war was over. Amanda had then returned to Britain alone, intent on helping the Wizarding World restore the world that she had been unable to help save.

Harry and Amanda had become fast friends, and in the beginning, Ron had teased him mercilessly about his affinity for older, Ravenclaw women. But really, Harry had assured him, there was nothing going on between them.

And almost a year later, there still wasn't. Harry wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about that. He didn't think Amanda's smiles were any different when directed at him than at anyone else, but Ron and some of the others insisted that she definitely had a thing for him.

On his part, he wasn't sure how he felt. After Cho, Harry had had a few other flings at school, but nothing spectacular. He had liked Katie, sure, and during his seventh year he had had a particularly heated, desperate encounter with Hannah, but... sometimes he wondered if Voldemort had broken him in some way. He loved his friends, sure, but he'd always had a hard time letting people in, and that hadn't changed since the war ended. Harry just couldn't stop waiting for the next disaster to strike, for the next time all the ones closest to him would be in danger again because of him.

Harry found himself oddly distracted throughout that whole session, and when they finished, he had worked up quite a few bruises and scrapes.

"Oh, god," Amanda exclaimed as she ran up to him, "I'm so sorry about that Harry," she said as she moved her wand absent-mindedly over his arms, and Harry watched in fascination as his wounds disappeared before his eyes. Amanda was quite adept at healing spells.

"That's fine," Harry said, shaking his head as if to clear it. "I'm fine. Sorry about today, Amanda. I guess I'm not feeling like myself."

Amanda touched his forehead and frowned. "I don't sense a fever," she said, moving her hand down to his neck to feel his pulse.

Over her shoulder, Harry saw Ron standing with a group of the guys, sniggering, and Harry suddenly felt like he was back at the Yule Ball, terrified of girls and of their power to turn him down and make him look like an idiot.

"I'm fine," he said, a bit too quickly, and with a tight smile at the confused young woman he strode past her to join his friends.

"She your girlfriend yet?" Terry Boot winked as Harry approached. Harry only rolled his eyes and the conversation soon shifted to less awkward topics. Harry was glad, he really didn't feel like analysing his failing love life.

* * *

><p>She moved through the woods silently, her wand brandished before her. Shield charms in place, anti-detection spells... she mentally ticked them off while feeling for foreign presences with her mind.<p>

The moment the bright purple light engulfed her, her training kicked in and Ginny spun in a circle, moving her wand swiftly to push the purple force backwards as her own magic surged out of her, and she found herself ducking and rolling out of the way of a lethal curse. She ducked behind a tree and felt it shake with the force of another attack which had narrowly missed her, but Ginny knew what to do.

She rose, and let her wand fall aside as she gathered up her thoughts. She felt the sinister force move towards her, closer, closer... she waited until the very last second, then let her energy release. She felt the power shake the forest, and felt a rain of leaves fall on her head. She looked up sheepishly at the now naked tree above her. Oops.

The elder moved out from the shadows behind her, and Ginny turned, the tree forgotten.

"Powerful," the elder said, nodding his head. Ginny was pleased, but her face remained an impassive mask. "Ready yourself for Stealth."

The man vanished, and Ginny took a deep breath, preparing her body for another round of training. She knew she would be ready soon, and she was not about to let the Protectors down. They had made her for this purpose.


End file.
